


Unraveled

by Karasuno Volleygays (ToBeOrNotToBeAGryffindor)



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Bondage, Breathplay, Dubious Morality, Edging, Flogging, Knife Play, M/M, Rough Sex, Toys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-25
Updated: 2019-02-25
Packaged: 2019-11-05 17:02:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,145
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17922818
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ToBeOrNotToBeAGryffindor/pseuds/Karasuno%20Volleygays
Summary: After his liberation from his past life, Iwaizumi adjusts to life with Ushijima. But something is missing, and Ushijima picks the strangest (and most erotic) way to give it to him.





	Unraveled

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lojo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lojo/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Tangled Webs](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14912093) by [Karasuno Volleygays (ToBeOrNotToBeAGryffindor)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ToBeOrNotToBeAGryffindor/pseuds/Karasuno%20Volleygays). 



> This is an intense story with heavy themes of violent sexual play. If you don't like it, don't read. Any wank comments will be deleted, and then I'm going to crawl through the internet and delete the culprit right after that with a foot in the ass.

The martini glass hangs from Iwaizumi’s lazy fingers, the warm strains of the string quartet drifting across the bustling ballroom dragging his eyes closed in kind. How boring, he thinks, wishing he could be anywhere else. This isn’t his life anymore.

It hasn’t been his life since Ushijima had liberated him from his past employer’s psychological slavery.

Life with Ushijima is a strange thing. While they ‘work’, Ushijima is level and almost frightening in his composure. However, when the day is done, his boss-slash-lover fucks like an animal. Iwaizumi can’t get enough of it. He had not truly understood why people took so much pleasure in sex until someone had bothered to give that pleasure in return. Ushijima is very obliging in that department.

But here and there, social status compels Ushijima to attend these dusty old affairs. Iwaizumi, however, is there to work. Anyone who is anyone has no idea that Iwaizumi is firmly attached to Ushijima’s side. Tongues loosen for a handsome young man, secrets spill, and Iwaizumi decides what he wants to do with it.

It’s like what he used to do for the Black Widow Society, but also not the same at all. Whatever intel, gossip, rumors, and so forth Iwaizumi procures belong to him and him alone. Ushijima doesn’t require him to share. All Ushijima asks from him is to not betray him or his secrets. The man has a lot of those, but Iwaizumi wouldn’t even consider it. Not just because Ushijima can and and probably will kill him if he does, but because Iwaizumi loves him.

Being in love with a notoriously ruthless crime boss is a surreal thing. They do things other couples do: have dinner together, spend a few hours here and there doing nothing in particular, share a closet, and they fuck like there’s nobody else in the world.

When Ushijima is in the room, there isn’t.

A dusty old bureaucrat named Morita eyes Iwaizumi with bald lust in his eyes, and he shunts his wayward thoughts aside so he can get back to business. His grip on his glass slackens even more, his voice drawling under the influence of a large amount of alcohol he hasn’t actually drunk.

Iwaizumi leads his prey into the gardens, mouth roving the sagging skin of his neck and drawing out a wheeze of appreciation. Dragging his tongue around the shell of Morita’s ear, Iwaizumi whispers, “How much do you want me?”

Morita is shaking under his touch, his breath running ragged when Iwaizumi cups his crotch and grinds his palm against it. Whimpering, Morita gasps, “I’ll do anything.”

“Thanks, baby,” Iwaizumi coos against his mouth. Hands and mouth pick apart the old man’s ability to stand, and Iwaizumi wrings the current lawmaking efforts of the Japanese government from a quaking Morita. When he finishes, he pats Morita on the cheek and murmurs, “Thank you, love.”

He heads back for the building, spitting out the taste of Morita’s come from his mouth and washing away the rest with a fresh martini.

Here and there, Iwaizumi ducks out with a new target, and he learns a few fascinating developments in government, military, and investment. The last two will no doubt be of interest to Ushijima. He’ll pass those along when they escape this interminable parade of wealth and vanity.

Finally ready to call it a night, Iwaizumi steps to the curb a few seconds before his driver arrives, and he sprawls out on the backseat, eyes closed and tie loosened. He is nearly asleep when they finally reach Ushijima’s massive estate.

Iwaizumi briefly considers taking the elevator before opting for the stairs instead. Maybe getting his blood moving will shake the dull haze of disengagement from his brain. It’s a feeling he has felt swelling within himself, tired beyond words at everything in his life except for those golden handfuls of hours with Ushijima.

He arrives in the room they share, and the center of his thoughts stands at the foot of the bed, shucking his immaculate tux into the arms of a waiting housekeeper.

“I noticed you did a lot of work tonight,” Ushijima remarks as he shrugs out of his jacket and tie. “It really isn’t necessary for you to do that.”

Splaying himself atop the covers, Iwaizumi yawns. “I know. It’s just the only thing I’m good at.”

“I can’t agree, but as long as it’s your choice, I have no say in the matter.” Ushijima stands in the center of the room, stripped down to only his boxer briefs, and says to the housekeeper, “Leave.”

“Yes sir,” the man yelps and scurries from the bedroom.

Alone with Ushijima at last, Iwaizumi’s lips curl into a smile. “The navy is testing a new nuclear sub prototype they’re not telling the UN about. Also, it sounds like there’s a hot new phone brand in the works in China, so stocks with Apple and Samsung might drop a little bit. LG and Motorola are definitely going to take a hit.”

“Interesting.” A smile teases on Ushijima’s lips as he strips Iwaizumi’s evening wear. When they’re both whittled down to their underwear, Ushijima joins him and tugs Iwaizumi atop his chest. “You look exhausted. Perhaps you should take a few days off and get some rest.”

Iwaizumi presses his cheek against Ushijima’s shoulder, the subtle pulse of his heartbeat even and soothing as it soaks through Iwaizumi’s skin. “I don’t know why I need a break from doing nothing, but I think you might be right.” He presses a kiss to Ushijima’s collarbone. “Did you get the deal done?”

“Mmm, yes,” Ushijima says. His arms wrap around Iwaizumi’s waist. “But I don’t want to talk business. I have a small request when you feel up to it.”

Raising his head, Iwaizumi’s brows raise. Ushijima never asks him for anything — not even a quick blowjob when he’s in a bad mood. “Oh, and what is that?”

Ushijima recites his request like he’s imparting something as inane as the weather, and Iwaizumi’s eyes widen. This is one request he has no intention of denying. Not when it’s a reflection of some of the darkest depths of his fantasies.

“You’re staying in tomorrow, right?” Ushijima nods. “Excellent. Consider it a date. I’ll just have to send out for some supplies.”

Tugging Iwaizumi tighter to him, Ushijima hums. “Whatever you need.”

Iwaizumi falls asleep draped on top of Ushijima, his thoughts soothed by the heat of skin on his and his imagination swirling with heady anticipation.

  
  


The two of them linger in bed until almost noon, taking breakfast in bed and lounging until their limbs ache in protest from lack of use. Days like these are the ones Iwaizumi likes best. At no time is he unaware that Ushijima is easily the most dangerous person he knows, but when they’re alone and unhurried, they’re both different people.

“Do you have the list of things you need?” Ushijima stretches his limbs in the warm spill of sunlight pouring in from the windows. His golden skin glows in the bright rays, and Iwaizumi’s breath catches at the sight.

By the time they’re done for the day, that honeyed expanse of skin will be bitten and bruised and gouged, and Iwaizumi cannot wait to get started.

Iwaizumi flags a passing house staffer and asks for the items on the list to be delivered within the hour by whoever gets there first, with a special bonus if they can come in under thirty minutes. Twenty-seven minutes later, a wheezing gardner holds out a black box. Iwaizumi exchanges it for a fat wad of bills and instructions to take the rest of the day off to enjoy it.

His blood is singing as he lifts the first item out of the box: a length of gleaming red silk rope. Ushijima watches him raptly as he ties the rope around one of the posts at the foot of the bed and then to the other, leaving two long tendrils hanging from each.

Ushijima dutifully sits on his knees at the end of the bed undressed, back facing the open room and arms pliant as Iwaizumi binds each end of the silk rope to his wrists. The knots on his wrists are loose, and Iwaizumi groans when Ushijima growls, “Tighter.”

Once Ushijima is secured, the next phase of Ushijima’s ‘small request’ begins. From the box, Iwaizumi pulls out a shining dagger, brushing his thumb along the edge of the blade to test its sharpness — and it is, lethally so. He clambers onto the bed and faces Ushijima. “Are you sure you want to do this?”

“I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t,” Ushijima says matter-of-factly.

“Just let me know if you want out, okay?” Ushijima nods, and Iwaizumi adds, “Safeword is spider.”

Chortling at the reference to Iwaizumi’s former occupation, Ushijima agrees.

Iwaizumi takes a deep breath and begins. With a touch lighter than a feather, he trails the tip of the dagger down the length of Ushijima’s hard muscled torso. The metal is barely touching the skin, yet a pink trail follows in its wake. He revels in the struggle taking place on Ushijima’s face, biting his lip hard to keep himself from listing forward into the blade’s pressure.

It’s the point of the thing, after all, to grind Ushijima’s control until it snaps.

The dagger trickles its way up and down the length of his body, Iwaizumi’s grip steady and deliberate. Something hot and dark roars to life in his lower belly at the carefully formed kanji he traced on Ushijima’s back marking his lover as his. Nobody else in the world could ever carve their name into Ushijima Wakatoshi’s flesh; they wouldn’t dare. _Nobody but me,_ he thinks to himself.

When Ushijima body shudders under his touch, Iwaizumi kisses a trail up the length of his spine, dragging his teeth up the column of Ushijima’s neck and sinking them into the hard line of his jaw. “You ready?”

“Yes,” Ushijima hisses, and Iwaizumi’s cock strains almost painfully against his underwear at the sound.

The next tool in his arsenal is a cock ring, which he eases onto Ushijima’s burgeoning girth, the head already beginning to drizzle precome onto the bedding.

Finally, Iwaizumi brandishes an item that has always been a novelty to him: a tightly woven flogger made of gleaming leather.

Iwaizumi drapes his arms on Ushijima’s shoulders from behind, hands fisting around either end of the flogger’s pommel. He pulls it tight across Ushijima’s throat and drank in the ragged gasps that ooze from Ushijima, whose hips drive forward begging for contact.

Once Ushijima’s breaths starts to peter out, Iwaizumi releases his hold and Ushijima wheezes for air. Once his chest no longer heaves from the effort, Iwaizumi asks, “Again?”

Ushijima rasps, “Again.”

And so Iwaizumi does, stealing Ushijima’s breath time and time again until an angry red mark lingers where he presses the flogger. Now he’s ready.

The leather slaps against Ushijima’s backside, the flesh hot and irritated in its wake, and Iwaizumi doesn’t stop until Ushijima’s ass is almost purple from the blows. Ushijima is quaking in front of him, and Iwaizumi smirks as he crawls onto the bed in front of him.

“You good?” Iwaizumi’s voice is strangely soft against the lightly scored skin in front of him. Ushijima meets his gaze, eyes almost black with borderline feral desire. It coaxes a moan from Iwaizumi, and he crushes their mouths together for a searing kiss.

Iwaizumi tastes blood in Ushijima’s mouth, a by-product of their brutal little game, and it’s delicious.

His lips trace down Ushijima’s jaw and chest until they linger at Ushijima’s navel. His cock is dark red and rigid, and when Iwaizumi’s mouth embraces it, an almost inhuman sound tears from Ushijima. He teases the tip, backing away when Ushijima’s insistent hips greedily try to fuck into his throat.

Iwaizumi’s open hand cracks loudly as it slaps against Ushijima’s thigh. “Did I say you could do that?”

Biting down on his lower lip until it turns white, Ushijima’s eyes screw shut as he struggles for dominance over his base instincts. It isn’t Iwaizumi’s job to help him keep his control; it’s his job to do everything he can to force him to lose it.

Ushijima Wakatoshi, who is arguably one of the most influential men in the country — definitely one of the most dangerous and feared — fantasizes about being overpowered and subjugated. The fact that Iwaizumi is probably the only person alive who knows this heady and gives him a rush every time he thinks about it. Not just because he gets to ruin his perfect lover, but because he is the only one his perfect lover trusts enough to ruin him. If he hadn’t been achingly in love with Ushijima before, he would be now.

With one last kiss, Iwaizumi drops back onto the bed and leaves Ushijima hanging in more ways than one. Eyes fastened to Ushijima’s desire-twisted face, he lazily pumps his own cock and revels in the sight of Ushijima thrashing against his bonds, his instincts to be tied tighter well-founded.

When he feels the tightly coiled pressure in his lower abdomen threaten to unleash itself, Iwaizumi staggers to his feet and hovers close to Ushijima. “Open your mouth.” Ushijima’s jaw dutifully drops open, and Iwaizumi ruthlessly fucks his throat until he comes with his blood roaring in his veins. He kneels down to make sure Ushijima swallows it all, and he does. Iwaizumi can't help but steal another kiss.

Once more, he drops back onto the bed, satisfied in more ways than one, and he curls up atop the covers and grins lazily at Ushijima. “You’re doing great, babe. We’ll do this as long as you want.”

Ushijima’s breath is ragged and his arousal almost throbbing in its need to be relieved, but he nods nonetheless, ready to continue the game. That thought smoldering in his mind, Iwaizumi forces himself to peel his attention away from Ushijima’s prostrate form and do literally anything else.

And Ushijima sits there, thighs quivering while Iwaizumi reads the latest issue of _Time_ , also part of the package he had ordered. The words blur on the page in front of him, but he lets his eyes scan the page as if he’s seeing any of it. Iwaizumi can’t let Ushijima think for a moment that he is anything but wholly and totally captivated by the article and not by him.

It’s a struggle, but it’s worth it to watch Ushijima’s fingers tightly wrap around the red silk rope while he tries not to rip the posts right off the bed and take what he wants. And isn’t that what this is all about? Ushijima is a man who gets everything he wants and when he wants it. This is something Iwaizumi can give him that nobody else can. Nobody else would try to force Ushijima to beg and live to tell the tale.

Forcing a yawn, Iwaizumi slides out of bed and tugs on a pair of sleep shorts. On the control panel near the doorway, he punches in an order for a late breakfast. For himself, of course. Ushijima gets hangry if he doesn’t eat by noon, and Iwaizumi fully intends to use that knowledge to advance the game.

When the polite knock comes on the door soon after, Iwaizumi debates whether to open the door wide and display his handiwork to the hapless house staffer who is unfortunate enough to deliver breakfast in bed that day. However, he can’t help the fierce flare of possessiveness that wants to preserve the sight only for himself. He doesn’t think Ushijima would mind either way, but Iwaizumi does.

He slips Ushijima a little bit of his miso broth, but Iwaizumi forces him to watch the rest of the meal being consumed. Not having eaten anything at the party the night before other than a few scraps of come that had snuck down his throat, Iwaizumi is ravenous and he doesn’t have to put on a show for that.

Once he’s finished, he goes back to his magazine for a while, trying to make an article about climate change soak into his brain. But he really doesn’t care about polar ice caps or sea levels or shifting weather patterns right now. All he wants is to cut Ushijima down and fuck them both senseless, but Iwaizumi knows it would end up disappointing both of them, so he doesn’t.

It’s well past noon before Iwaizumi gets back to work. Ushijima is barely held upright by a combination of the rope and considerable leg strength. His entire body is shaking against the blade as it once again gets to work.

When Iwaizumi drags the tip of it up the livid length of Ushijima’s cock, it elicits a roar from Ushijima, and he hears the bed frame groan under the pressure of his animalistic arousal. He has to close his eyes and take a deep breath to calm himself because the sight is so intoxicating.

But collect himself he does, and he adds a few more characters under the still-pink stretch of his own name on Ushijima’s back. He changes up the rest of the routine a little, this time unfurling a condom over the handle of the flogger and teasing Ushijima’s hole open until he _whines_ for more.

“That’s right, Wakatoshi,” Iwaizumi murmurs in Ushijima’s ear, the insistent pressure of the flogger firmly pressed against his desperate entrance. “Beg me for it if you want it so bad. Beg me like a little bitch. Beg me to fuck you with this before I beat you with it some more. Do it. I know what you want, but I’m not giving it to you until you say it.” His arm latches around Ushijima’s throat and tightens against it. “Do it, Wakatoshi, while I’ll still let you.”

“No,” Ushijima hisses, voice incredibly even for the amount of strain chipping away at his well-cultivated discipline. “I won’t beg you. Do what you will.”

“You asked for it.” Iwaizumi roughly thrusts the handle of the flogger as far as it will fit into Ushijima’s ass and pulls it out just as quickly. Once again, leather rains down on bruised flesh, and a fresh wave of precome drools from Ushijima’s length. When Ushijima finally starts to wince at each blow, he stops. “You good, babe?” he whispers, and Ushijima gasps an affirmative.

Tugging off his shorts, Iwaizumi lubes his own length and snaps his hips tightly against Ushijima’s raw ass, cock deeply buried inside. The pace is easy and unhurried for one of them, and that is not Ushijima. He ruts himself back, his body begging in a way his words would never allow him to do, and each time he does, Iwaizumi slows even more.

“You keep that up, and it’ll be next year before I let you come. You’re a bad little whore, Wakatoshi, trying to take what you didn’t earn.” Iwaizumi reaches around and slaps Ushijima’s cock. “Are you going to do better, or do I have to teach you a lesson?”

Ushijima’s words are unintelligible and heavily saturated in pure lust, and Iwaizumi has his answer. Arm once again around Ushijima’s throat, he fucks in earnest while the wet slap of his hips against Ushijima’s ass fills the room. But their game is far from over, and Iwaizumi’s other hand clamps down around the base of Ushijima’s cock, strangling off any chance he has of coming when Iwaizumi feels his own release coming on.

The last thing Iwaizumi wants to do when he spills himself inside Ushijima is to pull out, but he does, pressing his flagging erection against Ushijima’s oozing hole. “You feel that? You feel all my come running down your legs, you little slut? Your needy little ass just takes what it wants and spits it out, huh? Yeah, I don’t think so.”

Iwaizumi walks on unsteady legs back to their regular box of toys this time, pulling out a gleaming steel plug. This beauty is the only reason Iwaizumi can still walk when Ushijima’s in the mood to fuck him extra hard, and he looks forward to seeing Ushijima’s used and abused ass take it in.

Swiping up the come and lube trickling out of Ushijima, Iwaizumi stuffs it back in and works the plug in to keep it there. “Maybe if you behave yourself next time, I’ll let you come. Probably won’t let you down, but if you’re really good, I might even suck you off. Do you want that, Wakatoshi?”

“ _Yes_.”

Ushijima’s voice is a mere shadow of its usual commanding timbre, and Iwaizumi can already feel himself stirring for yet another round. But not yet. Instead, he pulls his shorts back on and curls up on the bed for a pretend nap. Ushijima had urged him to rest, and Iwaizumi thinks he’ll find the poetic irony in it some time that isn’t now. At the moment, it’s purely for torture’s sake and not due to a modicum of weariness.

In fact, picking apart Ushijima has revitalized Iwaizumi in ways he didn’t think were possible. He feels fresh and powerful and _alive_. Nobody on the planet but him can do this to Ushijima. It’s like a drug, and he wants more of it. It’s so, so much but somehow never enough. That thought alone makes him smile into the pillow that still smells like Ushijima’s cologne from the night before.

He does end up drifting off for a while, almost an hour having passed since the last round. Ushijima is sagging against his bonds now, panting with the effort to stay upright under his own efforts. Iwaizumi slides out of bed and runs his fingers down Ushijima’s marred back, feeling that the flesh there is no longer hot to the touch. The next phase is ready.

Iwaizumi shivers when he pulls out the silicone dong that is slightly larger than Ushijima’s member, something he acquired in hopes of finding some sort of satisfaction during the times when Ushijima is away. It never does, but today is the day he can test that theory under new circumstances.

Practiced fingers work himself open enough for the massive toy while he lies with his head at the foot of the bed, eyes locked onto Ushijima’s while he presses it into himself. A guttural growl tears from Iwaizumi’s throat, and he pumps its length at an almost violent pace, his own cock so milked already that it no longer drips with precome. The toy is definitely a lot to handle and he notices it acutely, but his true well of desire stems from the bald hunger his Ushijima’s eyes.

“Mmm,” Iwaizumi hums, gaze locked with Ushijima’s. “It’s so good to get fucked, isn’t it?” He angles the toy to pound against his prostate and gasps noiselessly at the ache in his body. He’s nearly completely spent, but there is no stopping until he gives Ushijima what he craves.

Tears drag down Ushijima’s cheeks, and it’s one of the most beautiful things Iwaizumi has seen in his life. His heart thrashes inside him as quickly as the fake cock that will never feel as good as the real one. He is a hair’s breadth away from giving in and cutting Ushijima down to let him finish the job, but today isn’t about him. This is about Ushijima fulfilling a desire he has never been able to indulge until now.

Until he has Iwaizumi there to give it to him.

Swallowing a cry of frustration, Iwaizumi plunges on while the last of Ushijima’s discipline crumbles. The wooden bedposts creak in protest as Ushijima wrenches against his bindings. There is no panic in his eyes — only dark, heated desire.

Iwaizumi is startled but not surprised when the bedposts finally snap, thousands of yen worth of finely crafted furniture ruined in seconds and neither of them give a damn at all. Ushijima stalks over to him on his hands and knees, still shaking but something feral and basic keeping him alert.

He wants Ushijima to do exactly what his entire body is poised to do, but with the last shred of his control, he doesn’t. Not yet. Instead, he cracks his lube-smeared hand across Ushijima’s face and hisses, “Lay down. Now.”

Ushijima complies, and Iwaizumi hikes one long, heavy leg over his shoulder while he pulls the plug from Ushijima’s sloppy, used hole. That slurry of old come and lube starts to dribble out, and Iwaizumi’s cock punches it back in.

Leaning forward, Iwaizumi presses his palm against Ushijima’s throat while he pounds into him. Ushijima’s eyes roll back into his head, utterly enraptured by the experience, and Iwaizumi knows neither of them are going to last long. His release comes a few minutes later, and he wants nothing more than to soak into the mattress and not move for a day or so, but he’s not done yet.

Ushijima would let him, but Iwaizumi can’t and won’t leave him like this.

His entire body thrums from the borderline pain of overstimulation, but Iwaizumi plucks off the cock ring and impales himself on Ushijima’s throbbing cock. Fingers still wrapped around Ushijima’s throat, Iwaizumi moves himself as fast as his weary body will allow.

It doesn’t take long for Ushijima to finally spend himself inside of Iwaizumi, and when he does, Iwaizumi drops onto his chest and crushes their mouths together. Their bodies are still connected when Iwaizumi buries his face in the slope of Ushijima’s sweat-streaked shoulder. “You were beautiful,” he whispers, and splintered wood scrapes against the floor as Ushijima’s still-bound hands band around his waist.

“So were you.” Ushijima presses what Iwaizumi can only categorize as a sweet kiss to his temple. “Thank you, Hajime.”

That little phrase makes Iwaizumi raise his head. Even rarer than the use of his given name is that little phrase with genuine gratitude. Ushijima never thanks anyone for anything because it’s his due as who he is. He treats loyal people well, and he’s always given Iwaizumi respect as an independent contractor, an intelligence expert, and a lover. But thanks? Not so much.

A feeling he can’t name rushes through him, and Iwaizumi doesn’t want this moment to end. He is Ushijima’s and Ushijima is his. Nothing else in the world matters but that.

It takes every scrap of will Iwaizumi possesses to scrape himself off of Ushijima and stagger to the bathroom. He sits on the toilet so he can catch his breath and also to let the come slither out of him. When he has the energy to stand, he slings a towel over his shoulder and drops a couple of washcloths in a bowl of warm water and returns to the bed — no, _their_ bed.

Careful hands untie the knotted ropes and then tenderly pass the washcloth over every inch of Ushijima’s well-used body. Iwaizumi gently massages Ushijima’s purpled wrists, feathering kisses on the abused skin and smiling against the pulse still racing at his wrist.

Finally clean enough, Iwaizumi tosses the covers over them and burrows into Ushijima’s side. They’re both drowsy from their remarkable experience, and Iwaizumi eagerly awaits the day when he can fulfil Ushijima’s twisted fantasies once again.

When they awaken, it’s nearly sunset, and Ushijima grunts in protest when Iwaizumi tries to slip out of the bed. “Get back here,” he mutters.

“No can do, babe. You need to eat.” With that, Iwaizumi orders a dinner and doesn’t bother dressing to pick it up at the door, sending the staffer on his way with a sharp look to mind his own fucking business.

The two of them sedately graze at their simple meal, a steaming pile of grilled meat, rice, and a bottle of good sake. Once it’s finished, Ushijima shunts the platter off the bed and tugs Iwaizumi close to him once again. Nothing about Ushijima is soft, but there in that warm, halcyon moment, he melts into Iwaizumi.

Iwaizumi smiles at the ceiling. “I should’ve guessed you were a freak. You have way too much fun killing people with your bare hands not to be.”

Ushijima shakes his head against Iwaizumi’s shoulder. “That’s business. This is something else.” He cranes himself up onto an elbow and gazes down at Iwaizumi, dragging the back of his hand down the line of Iwaizumi’s jaw. “Anyone can kill like we do, but nobody can love like we do.”

That is a word Iwaizumi can rightly say he never expected to hear on Ushijima’s lips, but there it was for him and only him to hear. _Love_. They do a lot of things together — work, eat, rest, fuck, and just live in general — but this isn’t the word Iwaizumi would ever assign to their shared life. Not until now, at least.

He has never doubted that he loves Ushijima, and not only for offering him freedom from his old life and delivering on his promise. It just isn’t until this moment when he realizes that Ushijima loves him, as well. Iwaizumi isn’t just someone who warms his bed and fills a hole in his organization by virtue of no longer being contracted to kill him.

Iwaizumi’s heart feels like it’s going to burst through his ribcage. In his months of delving back into the realm of self-determination, he has struggled with a lot of things regular people don’t think about. He doesn’t have to go the whole day without drinking water so he can manage an entire night’s work without stopping to pee. When someone brushes against him, he rarely steels himself for attack anymore.

And when he has sex with Ushijima, it’s not just fucking. It’s making love. This sticky malaise of disinterest hanging over every other aspect of his life, which primarily consists of his freelance work, is clearer now. The business no longer satisfies him, no longer keeps him full. He doesn’t care about it at all.

All he wants is the man drowsing beside him, marked head to toe by Iwaizumi’s handiwork and relishing every scrape and contusion, to love him.

Ushijima chuckles, as if reading his thoughts. “I take it you’re starting to understand a few things you didn’t before.”

“Yeah.” Iwaizumi’s hand seeks out Ushijima’s, their fingers lacing together. “I don’t want to do the job anymore. I think I’m ready for something else.”

“Good.” Ushijima squeezes Iwaizumi’s hand. “You have the entire world at your fingertips. Go and take what you want. Nobody can stop you now.”

Iwaizumi closes his eyes and sighs. He has no idea what he wants from life outside of the information-gathering and assassination profession, but there is no doubt that the first thing on the top of any list will forever and always be this. _Them._ Everything else can wait its turn.


End file.
